


the potency of your silence suffocates me

by gingersimp



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Drabble, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, unspoken feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersimp/pseuds/gingersimp
Summary: Words unspoken, words at the tips of their tongues.Their throats blocked by fear.Maybe the potency of the liquor will dilute the silence.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 62





	the potency of your silence suffocates me

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is really short and honestly I wasn't going to post it but it was about to auto delete from my drafts so I said eh, cause I can't be bothered to keep it in my notes app to go moldy.
> 
> It's very drabbly-esque and is full of the most nonsensical metaphors and just stupid sounding shit but it is what it is.
> 
> Obligatory don't be weird, this is written about the characters they play, they are fine with fanfiction but don't harass them, they're real people. Also if they ever decide they aren't comfortable with this kind of stuff I will delete this faster than you can say "I'm a disappointment to my parents"

Wordless confessions are poisonous, they mean nothing, the searing touch and a hopeful smile.

God it's intoxicating though, for it to remain unspoken, perhaps George fears that the spark of electricity that courses his veins will disappear if he isn't careful with his words.

His intentions are devious yet his actions are innocent.

Clay could never know that the feverish flushed cheeks George dwells with are because of his hands through his hair, not sheer awkwardness.

George isn't shy but Clay makes him nervous.

These feelings are like a pariah amidst the swirling pool in his stomach, the sweetest concoction of breathless laughs and teeth rotting smiles serves to over power the bitterness he's so used to.

With bleary eyes he watches Clay, an array of bottles lay discarded beside the couch as they sit side by side.

Close enough to warrant the arrhythmic tune George's heart has chosen to adopt. Clay is saying something as he fiddles with the string of his hoodie, but George's heart is too loud and god does Clay have softest look on his face as his ears tinge pink, 

"George I think I might love you."

"Pardon?"

"I love you."

He can only hum quietly in response, as if no words fit the delicate vulnerability saturating Clay's voice.

So he tries, he tries to convey it with his eyes, as if the deep brown could decipher the encryptions on the heavy door to his heart. 

He's sure Clay knows though, maybe it was the lingering hands on his waist after an embrace, or the way he laughed just a little too hard at a stupid joke, maybe it was the doe eyes he can't help but give him.

Either way, things like this are better left unspoken.


End file.
